Fallout New Vegas: Heisenghoul
by Gamin' Fanfics
Summary: After the Courier meets a ghoul diagnosed with cancer trying to cook Chems to provide for his family in death, he gets caught up in the Chem trade, so much that it is nearly impossible for him to get out. Rated T for minor swearing and violence. Loosely based off of Breaking Bad. Even if you haven't watched it, you just won't be able to get the references.


_Author's Note: This is the first chapter of my new fanfiction, Heisenghoul. It's loosely based off of Breaking Bad. If you haven't watched that, it doesn't matter. You just won't be able to get some of the references. Mostly dialogue to get a feel for the characters._

**CHAPTER ONE: HEISENGHOUL**

Courier Six drank the last bit of dirty, radioactive water he had left in his canteen. He'd been travelling for quite a bit now, back and forth along the Long 15 and other parts of the Mojave, doing tedious tasks such as delivery jobs and occasionally pick-up jobs. This was the life he chose, he just didn't realize how boring it would be after he found Benny, the man who put a bullet in his skull. The only thing he could do now was continue on with these tasks or take a side in the war for the Hoover Dam, except the Courier didn't exactly feel like he was ready to take on that task. He was travelling back to Vegas to collect his reward for the delivery job. He'd been on the road for a couple of days, delivering a weapons shipment for the NCR unit around the Mojave Outpost, days away from Camp McCarran. He hadn't had a meal for a while, but if he collected his fifty caps, he'd be able to afford some grub at the Atomic Wrangler, maybe even a beer. But that was far along the road.

The Courier felt his stomach ache. He collapsed to the floor. He couldn't handle it anymore. He needed food right now. It wasn't the radiation and it wasn't the heat. He tried to eat some Radscorpion meat, but he puked it out. He even considered eating one of those dead raiders he found along the street, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The Courier decided his best option right now was the go scavenging. The only thing is, in the middle of the Mojave, there aren't many places to loot. He'd have to wait for a miracle to happen if he were to find a deserted shack full of Brahmin steak or a Prospector willing to share an old fashioned Wasteland Omelet. His mouth was watering as he picked himself up.

After travelling for a good hour or so, The Courier still hurting, he found a seemingly abandoned trailer, all scuffed up and rusted. He assumed that there must be some kind of food in there, if not a mine or a pack of mantises. As The Courier approached it, two gunshots, probably from some kind of pistol or revolver, landed near his feet. The Courier screamed, frightened.

"Stand back, you no good Khans!" a scruffy voice shouted, "I'll get this batch ready, you just have to give me a few more days! Please don't kill me!"

A couple more gunshots flew past him.

The Courier stood back with his hands up. He could see a ghoul with a dapper hat pointing a revolver at him through a window.

"Hey! I don't know who you think I am, but I am not who you think I am!" The Courier nervously replied back.

"Then who the hell are you?"

"I'm just a Courier looking for some food, alright!" he exclaimed.

The gunfire ceased. The Courier guessed he was thinking, hopefully not getting a better shot between his eyes.

"Fine, but one wrong move, and BANG!" he threatened.

The Courier walked towards the trailer, still holding his hands up, slow and easy. He stepped inside the trailer. It seemed a lot bigger on the inside. There were a bunch of chemistry sets, hot plates, a stove and some Chems lying on a table. And beside it all was a ghoul with a well-trimmed goatee, a dirty grey pre-war shirt, and a fedora seated in a blue metal chair, aiming a gun at the Courier.

"Alright, keep those hands up. Don't touch my Chems!" he snapped, causing The Courier to flinch.

He stared down at all of the supplies that ghoul was hoarding.

"Wh- who are you?" The Courier asked while stuttering.

"Hmph. I guess you're not a Khan. My name is um… Let's see… Damn, those god forsaken fumes must be getting to my brain…" The ghoul stalled.

"My name is… Heisenghoul-."

"Really?" The Courier chuckled, "Is that your actual name?"

"Are you making fun of my name?"

The Courier nodded silently.

"Anyways, I'm Heisenghoul. I was born in some Vault, can't remember the number. I do remember there were a bunch of fancy technological shit, though. The entire Vault was filled with geeks, and they were looking to make more. We all had to train and learn about different types of engineering, and we all had to have a job relating to engineering. I was the best damn chemist in the Vault. Everyone would applaud my work. That was until diagnosed with lung cancer. I tried some radioactive therapy. It kept me in remission for a long time, but now it's coming back. After we were released from the Vault, I couldn't let my wife and son be stranded alone without their dad, so I decided to cook Chems to get enough caps to get them weapons or at least keep them fed for a while. They found out what I was doing. Now, we're estranged, but I still plan on providing for them even in death."

"Wow." The Courier exclaimed. "You also mentioned something about Khans. What do they got to do with this?"

"Ah, the Great Khans. Those bastards. I cook Chems for them and they sell em' off to another guy. Well, after they've had their hit, of course," Heisenghoul explained, "there's no way I can get out of this. I want to start selling to another dealer or start off on my own, but I'm too far in now. Plus, they only give me like, twenty caps per batch."

"Oh. Okay. Do you have any food? I'm sort of starving," The Courier asked.

"Uh, yeah, sure. I have a lot of Gecko steak and some Nuka with rum. I steal it from those Khans whenever they let me visit. Serves them right."

"Wow. That actually sounds great."

Heisenghoul handed The Courier a plate of Gecko steak and a bottle of warm Nuka-Cola with a teensy bit of alcohol. The Courier gnawed at the Gecko steak and gulped down the Nuka-Cola.

"Jeez. You devoured that thing like a rabid dog," Heisenghoul noted.

The Courier thought. This place doesn't seem too bad. A nice meal every so often. Twenty caps to make some Chems. He might be a little more comfortable here.

"Hey Heisenghoul, how about I help you cook Chems?" The Courier offered.

"Now why would you want to do something like that? It sucks."

"I get paid forty, fifty caps to run to and from places around the Mojave. Hell, I nearly starved until I found you. Now, getting paid to sit around and cook Chems? Hell yes." The Courier explained.

"Well, okay. But I still need you to fetch me some things before we start on today's batch. It's for some tribal raiders, they call it Voodoo. Okay, so I need some tobacco, Cazador poison glands, Radscorpion poison glands, Bark scorpion poison glands, Jesus, a lot of poison glands, Bighorner meat, Brahmin meat, Broc flower, Buffalo gourd seeds, cave fung- Jesus, nevermind, let's get back to something basic. What other orders do we got… Ah, Turbo. First we need to make some Jet, since that's a key component in Turbo. To make some Jet, I need some Sugar Bombs, cave fungus, tobacco and some Nevada agave fruit. Pretty simple right?"

The Courier sat still with his jaw dropped.

"Yeah, sure," he replied nervously. This was going to be a long day.

The Courier wandered out of the trailer. Heisenghoul wasn't very informative on how to find these items, so The Courier was on his own.


End file.
